Devil's in the Details

"Alright, what have we got?"

Determined not to throw up, Detective Dawkins took a breath, immediately regretting it. "Two dead. One male, one female. Martha Williams, and her husband Richard "Dickie" Williams. Owned a lot of local businesses."

Peterson raked sharp eyes over the bloody scene, taking it all in. The spacious rooms, the squares on the walls where paintings had hung, the gaps where pricey gewgaws had gloated. The stiffening bodies and dark, sticky red mess splashed over the marble and the expensive rug.

"Any leads?"

"Mhmm. Maid lived in the granny flat round the back. It's been cleaned out. She's gone."

"By cleaned out, you mean..."

"Not like this," Dawkins said, gesturing at the shattered glass and the furniture that, too big to steal, had been smashed and overturned. "Clean as a whatchermacallit. A new pin." Their shiny shoes took a step back from the ugly mess of blood and brains. Was that a bit of bone?

"So you're thinking robbery gone wrong?"

"Well, it's not the husband this time."

Both officers looked down at the smashed up, Botoxed, overly-tanned face of local business tycoon, Dickie Williams. It stared back.

"You think a maid did all this? Seems... a lot."

"Maybe she had help. Could've been an accomplice. Whoever got in knew the code for the alarm."

"Did anyone else know it?"

"Seems not."

"Let's ask the maid some questions."

"Tricky. Looks like she's already on her way to New York."

Damn.

Over the following days, they interviewed a number of Maria's friends, family and associates. They turned up precisely nothing.

"Haven't seen her in ages," one said. "She got a new fella. Maybe they eloped?"

Weeks later, the gardener unearthed (literally) Maria's body.

The boyfriend would've been a person of interest, if anyone had the first clue who he was.

They were keen to talk to the estranged son of Martha and Dickie, as well, especially since he was apparently not in the Williams' will. Trouble was, nobody knew where he was either. Peterson suspected he was in New York, spending his parents' money, with hardly a thought for the woman he'd used.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Word count excluding note: 366 Submitted on Monday 22nd July at 22.55

*Very Quick Author's Note* First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent. If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another! A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 204 day streak since 1st January.

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Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

Thank you! Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +